


After-Effects

by orphan_account



Series: The Saga of the Doctor and his Bladder [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bedwetting, Embarrassment, Post-Episode: s01e14 The Christmas Invasion, Post-Regeneration (Doctor Who), Serial: s116: Castrovalva references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Every few regenerations, an embarrassing problem occurs. That Christmas, it happens again..





	1. Again

The Doctor shifted in his bed in Jackie’s flat. He was half-awake and felt weird. And uncomfortable. He checked his body. Head not pounding. Hearts? Both good rhythm. Stomach: No fluttering of regenerative energy. Crotch? Hmm. It felt cold. And wet. He felt his legs. No sign of sweating. He opened his eyes in worry. It couldn’t be?... He felt under his butt. Wetness. He moved it around. Lots of wetness! Panicked, the Doctor jumped out of bed, pulled off the blanket, and sniffed the large wet spot. Yes, it was urine. He closed his eyes and sighed sadly. 

 

_ Not again... _

 

It wasn’t unheard of. He recalled wetting the bed after a few of his regenerations. One time he even wet himself being dragged on grass by Adric. Lucky,  _ absorbent _ , grass..

 

It had to do with the regeneration of his urinary system. It was quite complicated, as he had four kidneys, and his  _ appendage _ had two holes, which switched organs back and forth. Not only did that take time, but the connection between his brain and bladder muscles was often..dodgy, for a while. Thankfully it (usually) exclusively resulted in  _ night-time _ “accidents”. It wasn’t every regeneration, but nevertheless, the Doctor rolled his eyes at letting himself believe it  **definitely** wouldn’t happen..

 

He thought about how he was going to fix it. Normally, he would be in his TARDIS, and he could just put the sheets in the wash, and the TARDIS would put on new ones, once he returned. Even with companions, it wasn’t that difficult. The TARDIS tended to hum at night, which covered up the sound of his footsteps. There was just the problem, of him being in  _ Jackie’s flat _ . 

 

He had to take care of it now, he couldn’t cover it up, he knew that. Despite the risky circumstances, The Doctor stripped the bed and carefully opened the door to his room. He looked out in the corridor. No sound, no movements. He stepped out and closed the door quietly, leaving it open a crack. He walked past Jackie’s room when he heard a noise inside. He gasped. But she was just snoring.  _ Was  _ snoring..

 

Hearing the gasp, a worried Jackie got out of bed, but on her dressing gown, and went out to find the Doctor, thinking he had a nightmare. 

 

Jackie opened the door, seeing the Doctor right outside. The Doctor quickly hid the bundled up sheets behind his back. 

  
“You alright, Doctor?” Jackie asked in concern. 

 

The Doctor considered what lie to tell her. At the same time, the unconcealed front of the Doctor’s pj’s caught Jackie’s eye. They were visibly wet. 

 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Jackie asked kindly, not bringing up the obvious result of such a dream.

 

The Doctor snapped out of his thought, and looked down at himself. She could see the state of his trousers, he realized. 

 

“No. I wish.,” he answered glumly. “It’s my regeneration. Nerves related to  _ retention _ are a bit.. faulty,” he explained.

 

“Ah. Well, that’s alright it happens. Stuff's going on in your body, of course, your bladder’s confused. No need to be embarrassed,” she assured him, understanding. She patted him on the back. The Doctor nodded and smiled, appreciating her kindness.

 

“Where’s the washing machine?” he asked. 

  
“Oh, don’t bother yourself with that. Give me your sheets, get your trousers off, I’ll wash them for you,” Jackie offered. 

  
“No, that’s ok, it’s my mess,” he assured her, still awkward about what happened. 

 

“You’re my guest. I took care of you before, I won’t stop, just ‘cause of some wet sheets,” Jackie insisted, grabbing the sheets.

 

“Thank you so much, Jackie” the Doctor thanked her, taking off his pyjama bottoms, and handing them to her.

 

“You’re welcome. Spare jimjams are in the closet. I presume you’re not the diva you were before?” she asked, referring to fashion sense. The Doctor scoffed humorously, at the insult, albeit directed at his old self. 

 

“No, mix and match’s no problem. The only me who would have a problem has  _ no say _ whatsoever,” he replied, raising his eyebrows in mockery of the Sixth Doctor’s “fashion sense”.

 

“And has been gone for a while now,” Jackie got the joke, walking away to wash the sheets and clothes. The Doctor nodded, and went back into his room to change. Putting a new set of sheets on the bed, he got back in, and quickly forgot the one-time incident, as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. The Morning After

Rose walked out of her room that morning in her nightdress, all ready for breakfast. She said good morning to her mum, and sat down with her plate of toast, eating while waiting for the Doctor. 

  
“Doctor’s still sleeping? How tired was he after regenerating,” Rose asked, to no one in particular. 

  
“More tired than he should be..” Jackie remarked, looking down in sympathetic thought. Rose frowned in confusion, but got back to her toast. She noticed the sound of the dryer beeping to signify that it was done. Jackie turned off the stove, and ran off to deal with it. 

  
“Mum? Did you wash something in the middle of the night?” Rose yelled to her. 

 

“Yes I did,” Jackie yelled back, leaving the clean sheets and trousers in the basket, and going back to Rose. 

  
“Too much to drink?” Rose asked, dubiously, suggesting what happened to the Doctor, happened to Jackie. 

  
“No, it’s not that,” she answered quickly. 

 

“Then what is it?” Rose asked. Jackie shut up. The Doctor stepped in the room, wearing his mismatched jimjams. Rose noticing, raised an eyebrow at him. 

  
“Did you switch your pyjama bottoms?” Rose asked him curiously.

 

“Eh, yes I did,” The Doctor replied, pretending that it was a totally normal thing to do. Rose let it go. The Doctor was nothing, if not eccentric. And alien.

 

Her mum’s midnight laundry came to mind. 

  
_ It couldn’t be?... _

 

She walked into the laundry room. In the laundry basket, neatly folded, was as suspected, sheets, and a pair of pyjama trousers matching the top part of the Doctor’s pyjamas. The evidence was clear. It was him. The Doctor had wet the bed. 

 

_ Poor Doctor.. _ Rose thought with sympathy.

 

Going back to the breakfast table Rose asked, 

 

“So, other than your  _ accident, _ did ya sleep well last night?” sneaking in the word “accident”. The Doctor widened his eyes at her and blushed. 

  
“What?..” he replied nervously. 

  
“I saw your clothes in the hamper. Hey, it’s alright. It happens. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” She assured him, stroking his arm, regarding him kindly. 

  
“Really?” he asked, still not quite confident. 

 

“Really. Even the Oncoming Storm’s not immune to the odd accident,” she told him with a laugh. He laughed too, nodding and smiling at her words.

 

Later, unbeknownst to the Tylers, Mickey Smith had entered the apartment solely for the purpose of washing his vomited-on shirt from the night before. 

 

He noticed the washer’s residual stench, of the Doctor’s urine. 

 

“Hey, Jackie. Why does the washing machine smell like a chemical waste factory?” he yelled. 

 

No longer feeling any shame, the Doctor clarified right away. 

  
“Oh, that’s just my urine. Just let the dryer air out of the room, should be gone in a minute,” the Doctor yelled back. Mickey walked to the breakfast table.

 

He chuckled at the Doctor’s answer.

  
“Too much to drink, Last of the Time Lords?” he kindly teased. Rose shot him a look to stop it. The Doctor had ignored the mockery. 

 

“No, I’m too alien for that. It’s my regeneration. Some things take a while to, work properly,” he explained, rolling his eyes at his biology. 

 

“That blows, bro,” Mickey responded, patting the Doctor’s back sympathetically. The Doctor nodded, and went back to his toast. 

 

“Does it happen in all of them?” Mickey asked, curious. 

 

“No. Little over half of them, sort of random. I actually remember it once happening on a patch of grass,” The Doctor answered.

 

“Wait, it happened when you were lying in the grass? Why was that?” Rose asked. 

 

“It was back in my UNIT days. Fell of a telescope tower. Regenerated in the grass,  _ it _ happened shortly after, while my companions were dragging me back to the TARDIS. Fortunately, some security guards felt they had to drag me away to a truck, so I got extra time in the grass to “dry off”,” he retold, smiling nostalgically at the amusing memory.

 

“Do you remember any specific time it didn’t?” Mickey asked. 

 

“Yeah. My 8th regeneration. Probably caused by the fact I was in cold morgue. I got shot, so the good people of San Fransisco thought they’d try operating me, which of course didn’t work. And as you do with any normal, dead human, I got sent to the morgue, marked deceased. Somehow, peeing on a cold slab in a metal closet, didn’t seem appealing to my bladder,” the Doctor remarked.

 

“Does it happen for more than one night,” Rose asked, not wanting to bring the possibility up, but since Christmas wasn’t over...

 

The Doctor blushed, looking down sadly, almost worrying. 

  
“Eh, no. Not that I remember” he answered, scratching behind his air, uncertainly. Rose nodded, and patted his hand, quickly changing the subject. The four of them had a nice Powell Estate breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, who wants more of this story? Show of hands... I mean comments!


	3. Rubber Sheets

After a nice relaxing day, fixing things in the TARDIS, The Doctor put on  _ matching  _ pj’s and walked into his bedroom. On the bed, was a rubber bedsheet. 

  
“Rose! Why’s there a rubber sheet on my bed?” he called out for her. 

 

Rose and Jackie came in to explain. 

 

“It’s just for one more night, just in case,” Rose explained. 

 

The Doctor blushed and looked at her crossly. 

 

“When..if it happens, just put the laundry in here, then you can just get back to sleep,” Jackie explained, pointing at the basket in the corner. 

 

“I told you, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You told me the process is dodgy, so what if this is part of it?” Rose reassured him, giving him a half hug, and smiling at him. He nodded, accepting her point. Rolling his eyes at his “protection”, he thanked Jackie and got in bed. He had to admit, knowing the sheets wouldn’t get wet this time, and he could just put the plastic covering in the trash bag next to the hamper,  _ did  _ increase his confidence in sleeping again. With that, he drifted off. 

  
At about 1 AM, his bladder woke up again. And as happened the night before, it began emptying itself. The muscles in his legs vibrated as the pressure in his bladder were relieved, the urine flowing quickly through his boxers and trousers. When the bladder shuddered at the end, the Doctor woke up. He instantly recognized the wet, cold sensation of his soaked clothes. Sighing in frustration, he smiled at the reassuring fact, that he hadn’t wet the bed this time, only the  _ rubber sheets _ . Shrugging off the slight embarrassment, he stripped the bed, put his wet clothes in the hamper, changed and went back to sleep, this time, happily. 


	4. When you've gotta go..

Fully dressed, the Doctor put the hamper outside his door and went to breakfast. 

 

In between bites of toast, Rose felt the need to ask about the night. 

 

“So, the sheet come in handy, or what?” she asked him. 

  
“Yes, thank you,” he answered, a slight blush on his face. 

 

“Good. And hey, when you’ve gotta go, you gotta go. Bladder comes first,” she joked. The Doctor laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. 

 

\--------

 

Later, that next night, the Doctor went into his room in the TARDIS, ready to forget his regeneration. In absence of proof that it wasn’t necessary, the TARDIS had, like Jackie, put rubber sheets on the bed. Crossing arms in defiance, the Doctor argued telepathically, but went into bed. Did he wet the bed once more? 

 

Well, that’s none of  _ our _ business…

 

The End.


End file.
